Stuck Together, Torn Apart
by Piraticaly-Insane
Summary: When a potions lesson takes a turn for the disastrous, Hermione and Draco are stuck together. Faced with Draco's innate prejudice, Hermione doesn't know if she can cope. Will she be able to break through the walls of hate his father built? DM/HG
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! So, I'm taking a small break from writing my original fiction as I'm feeling a bit stuck. This is just being written on a whim, so I hope you enjoy! As always, please read and review.  
**

**Disclaimer - As always, I don't own Harry Potter. J.K Rowling does as my books remind me daily, and quite cruely in my opinion.**

**Chapter 1**

**__________**

"Oh bloody hell!"

Robes flew across the Gryffindor girls' dorm in a tornado of black fabric, in the middle of which stood a dishevelled Hermione Granger, who looked quite on the brink of madness. For the first time in, well, ever, she had no clean uniform. Now, you might think that it would make sense for her just to clean her robes with a flick of her wand, but Hermione stood firmly by the principle that she would do the every day things the muggle way, for if she resorted to magic for the little things, it would surely take over and she would lose any muggle habits. Now this principle was coming back to bite her on her flustered arse. Not only was she late, she was late for potions, and she was not so masochistic as to be willingly late for one of Snape's lessons - that would take a sick individual with a penchant for cruel and humiliating punishment.

"No, no, no." she muttered, pushing a lock of curly hair from her eyes.

Resigning herself with a sigh, Hermione pulled on the cleanest set of robes she could find and grabbed her book bag, tripping slightly on the long strap and setting off with a frenzied lollop down the spiral staircase to the common room.

"_Where _is Hermione? She never usually takes this long. I mean, for once we'll be late for potions and we actually won't be to blame."

Ron glanced at his watch and looked back up at his friend Harry, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape to form an incredulous expression.

"I don't k-"

Hermione signalled her arrival by bursting into the common room with a cry.

"Late! Move! Move!"

She bustled past her astonished friends with emphatic hand gestures and a desperate look in her eyes. Not stopping to see if they were following, she dove into the portrait hole and grappled with the back of the Fat Lady. Landing with a stumble on the other side, she ignored the portrait's cry of surprise.

"Patience is a virtue you know! I was opening for you!"

Harry and Ron climbed out of the common room in time to see their friend's robes flick around the corner and vanish without a trace.

"Sorry about that." said Harry to the Fat Lady with an apologetic shrug.

"It's finally happened," said Ron staring after her, "She's lost it. Completely off her rocker."

"I would quite agree with that." huffed the Fat Lady, stalking out of her portrait , no doubt to find Violet and complain over the rudeness of today's Gryffindors.

"I think she's taking it rather well, considering." replied Harry with a grin.

Hermione flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time, all the way praying that they would not move, for she had settled on taking a very risky leap should they decide to shift. She skidded into the empty entrance hall and sprinted towards the dungeons.

"Late, so very late." she muttered repeatedly, not quite believing she had allowed herself to sleep so late, but her arithmancy book had been so interesting the previous evening that she could not resist reading a few extra chapters.

She panted loudly, her rapid footsteps echoing around her, not quite managing to cover the sound of her screaming muscles as she pushed her body past its usual jog to the library. The door to the potions classroom loomed closer. Too close. She couldn't slow down .And with as much grace as a drunken hippogriff, she crashed into the previously silent classroom. She had been hoping to slip in quietly, but there was not much chance of that. The entire class whipped around and even Snape wore an expression of surprise for a moment, before his usual malicious smirk laced his thin lips.

"Miss Granger, how kind of you to join us; I quite wondered why your hand had left its constant position in the air."

Hermione blushed furiously as Harry and Ron panted up to the door and leaned stood on either side of her.

"Ah, clearly chronology is of no consequence to this trio."

Hermione gulped and looked quickly around the class, the worried Gryffindor faces and smirking Slytherins flashing past her.

"I think twenty points each from Gryffindor will suffice. Take a seat, if I hear a word from any of you this lesson, it will be more."

Harry and Ron grumbled away to find seats, not forgetting to grace Snape with a well practiced glare, while Hermione looked around. There was no chance of finding a table together, so Hermione settled into a seat on her own. Unfortunately for her, it was on the Slytherin side of the class and she was greeted with leers. She was sure she even heard Millicent Bullstrode growl at her. Sighing, Hermione removed her potions textbook from her bag. Snape turned away from the board and strode to his desk, before looking up and staring at them all with a look that made them question their own intelligence.

"Well, are you waiting for an invitation? The instructions are up there, get started."

The screeching sound of metal on stone filled the room as the class rose from their seats to collect the required ingredients. Hermione quickly set her ingredients down at her station and flicked to the correct page in her potions book. 'Permanent Sticking Solution' read the top of the page. After scanning the instructions, Hermione decided that it should be simple enough to make.

Sweat poured down her head in thin trails as steam from her cauldron rose to the ceiling in intricate swirls. She wiped her forehead quickly with the cuff of her already dirty robe before adding some knotgrass to the thick pink solution, which was bubbling menacingly.

"Careful Granger - any more steam and your hair's in danger of causing an eclipse." whispered a sneering voice.

Hermione barely looked up; she was perfectly aware that her hair was slightly more voluminous than usual, which tended to be the case when she hadn't had time to brush it, let alone do anything else.

"Oh, I think your ego beat my hair to that, Malfoy."

Hermione spared some precious time to throw Draco a scathing look before turning back to give her potion one last counter-clockwise stir. She stabbed her arm into the steamy air, desperate to attract the attention of Snape and pack away her things.

Snape merely glanced at the madly waving hand, followed the arm down to the face of the owner and decidedly ignored her. Draco watched Hermione with thinly veiled disgust. She was such a…mudblood. A prancing goody-two-shoes, whose fingertips seemed to have a relentless attraction to the ceiling of whatever classroom she was in. He looked down at his own perfect potion and smirked in the way that only a Malfoy can (Ron claimed it was a gift passed from father to son and that it possessed an evil power, similar to that of the basilisk).

Ron sniggered as Harry dribbled some of the potion on his robes.

"Bad luck, mate. There's no way your're getting that out. It's called permanent for a reason."

The pair span around when they heard Hermione scream, forgetting the potion spillage. Her torso and hands were covered in her potion which had somehow flown from her cauldron. Harry started forward to help her but she had already spun around to face Malfoy who was standing, twirling is wand between his fingers with a careless air.

Hermione, in a speechless rage, raised her hand, seemingly to slap him but he grabbed her hand before she could even swing it in his direction and brought their faces close together.

"Don't even think about it, Mudblood." he whispered.

Ron roared with rage and came pounding over with the intention of helping Hermione and the secondary hope that he could somehow punch Draco, yet make it look like an accident. He tried to pull his friend away from the glaring Slytherin but she would not move.

"Hermione! Let-Let…go!" said Ron, pulling at her arm with all the strength he could muster.

"Ron, stop it, you're going to pull me apart! I'm stuck!" she cried.

Draco was pulling at his own arm desperately, when a bat like figure swooped over them and cast a shadow over the scene.

"What has happened, Mr Malfoy?" asked Snape in a bored tone, as if it were an everyday occurrence that his students got stuck together.

"That Mud-I mean, Granger, spilled her potion and now I'm stuck to her, that's what happened!" Malfoy shouted, violently waving his arm up and down, causing Hermione's to join him.

She scoffed loudly and brought their flailing limbs to a halt.

"You mean to say you made me spill my potion and now I'm stuck to you! It's your own fault!"

Snape cleared his throat and lifted the potions book, eyeing his students' joined hands with distaste. "Go to the headmaster and inform him of your, ah, predicament."

The pair stood quickly and Hermione led the way to the classroom door, trying to look as dignified as she possibly could while carting a disgruntled Malfoy behind her.

"Oh, and Miss Granger."

Hermione turned to face Snape, her face set and one eyebrow raised, almost daring him to make her situation worse.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for being so incredibly foolish."

Hermione dragged Draco from the room and Harry and Ron grimaced as they heard a distinct scream of rage echo in the hallway.

**Did you like? Did you not? Whatever you felt, please review to tell me. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you very much to my reviewers; it's certainly nice to hear a kind word and it keeps me writing! And thank you to all who alerted and favourited. Chapter 2 now!**

**Disclaimer - I don't own it.**

**Chapter 2**

**____________**

Hermione and Draco walked through the empty corridors, leaving the dank dungeons to get to the grand staircase. Draco, not appreciating Hermione's earlier scream, which he was sure had left his eardrums permanently damaged, was dragging his feet, staring at the ceiling as though it held some incredible interest to him.

Hermione, gritted her teeth and ploughed forward, her arm aching from dragging Malfoy and her mood hardly improved by Snape's unrelenting unpleasantness.

"Malfoy, could you _please_ hurry up! We'll be stuck together much longer than necessary if you don't lift your bloody feet and walk like a normal person rather than a lethargic giant!"

Draco wrinkled his pale brow in response to her complaints and picked up his pace as they approached the third staircase. Soon, his smirk returned when one of the staircases span while they walked towards it. He sped up and smoothly stuck out his foot, making contact with Hermione's and sending her sprawling over the side of the staircase with a loud screech. Their attached hands were all that kept her safe and he leaned over the floor to see her dangling metres above the ground, fear glinting in her eyes, her chest moving rapidly in an attempt to control her terrified breathing.

"Malfoy, GET ME UP!" she screamed, her voice rising with an hysterical edge.

The staircase was spinning around to its destination, and Hermione could see that as soon as it reached it, her wrist would be stuck in between the heavy slabs of stone. Closer. Closer.

"MALFOY!"

He smirked at her fear and leaned down, pulling the girl up slightly.

"On one condition, Granger. If you nag at me one more time, I will do this again. I won't be told what to do by a mudblood."

Hermione gaped at him and her legs stopped kicking wildly. Was he serious? He had thrown her _over the edge of a staircase_ to tell her to stop nagging. Clearly Malfoy had a taste for dramatics - how like a Slytherin. The other stairs loomed nearer than ever and Hermione had a sudden image of a crushed wrist, which bore a startlingly similar appearance to a crushed tomato.

"Okay! Okay! I'll stop, just pull me up."

The blonde demon smirked and pulled her back up onto safe ground, just in time, as the stairs slid into place once more. Hermione sat on the stone, panting and hands shaking, cold sweat dripping unpleasantly down her back.

"Apparently Gryffindor bravery simply vanishes in the face of the _dreaded _staircase." said Malfoy, inspecting his nails with a perfectly placid look.

His companion scrambled to her feet and pushed him into the wall with a grunt from both of them. Their faces inches apart, Hermione glared directly into his pale gray eyes.

"You are, for want of a better word, a psycho. Who dangles people over moving staircases? Oh, yes, a Slytherin. So don't even start me on Gryffindor bravery when you, a man certainly not lacking conversational skills (though you rarely apply them), resorted to a violent threat rather than telling me your problem to my face. Frightened, ferret? Frightened of what mudblood Granger would do?"

Malfoy growled and pushed her from his person, dusting invisible fragments of mudblood from his sleeves. He pulled her onwards, without a word, lost in thought. They walked silently as far as Dumbledore's office, stopping at the stone gargoyle and adopting stumped expressions as they realised they didn't know the password. Hermione furrowed her brow and bit her lip as she mulled over the possibilities.

"You know, Granger, wrinkles and bleeding lips won't improve your already terrifying appearance."

Hermione did not even spare him a glance, merely replying with:

"Well, being a ferret certainly helped yours."

They lapsed into silence once more before Hermione startled Draco by saying random sweet names.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Cockroach Clusters. Aci-"

"What are you doing, Granger?" he asked sharply, questioning her sanity and fearing for his safety.

"Trying to guess the password, obviously. Would it be too much to ask for you to leave me to it?"

"Acid Pops. Sugar Quills."

The gargoyle nodded and slid aside, revealing the stone stairs which would take them to Dumbledore and, hopefully, freedom.

"Well done." said Malfoy grudgingly, cursing his lack of initiative to have thought of the password himself.

"Thank you."

They alighted onto the landing and found themselves at Dumbledore's office. Draco raised their joined hands and rapped sharply on the wooden door, making sure to have Hermione's knuckles take the blow. She threw him a sideways growl and wrenched their hands down, reaching for the door handle. Upon entering Dumbledore's office, Hermione found herself amazed by the random items he had strewn around the room. Everything held some magical wonder and she had to resist the desire to go and inspect them, helped by Malfoy's insistent dragging. She supposed she couldn't complain, having pulled him along with her only five minutes previously.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger. What a delight. How may I help you?"

Dumbledore peered benignly at them over his half-moon spectacles, surveying the sight that was a thoroughly dishevelled Hermione Granger and a disgruntled Draco Malfoy. He thought it best not to ask.

"I'll tell you how you can help us." spat Draco, stamping up to stand directly across from the professor, who now had a look of keen interest and, much to the annoyance of Draco, a small smile on his face.

"Look at this!" he cried, lifting his and Hermione's hands into the air and slamming them roughly onto the desk, "We're stuck and, to be perfectly honest, that's not exactly great for either of us."

Dumbledore perched his chin on the steeple of his fingers, contemplating the pair that stood before him, clearly unhappy and lacking patience, judging by Draco's tutting and Hermione's rapidly tapping foot.

"A Permanent Sticking Solution, I presume?"

"Yes," replied Hermione, adding earnestly, "Professor, can you please just separate us now. I have to do some work in the library before lunch."

"Surprise, surprise," groaned Draco, "Do you have a bed in there?"

Hermione raised her chin and sniffed.

"I wasn't allowed."

Draco barked with laughter and turned to his headmaster imploringly.

"Do you see what I'm stuck with, sir? A library hermit who can't get off her high horse."

"_My _high horse? Oh, really, that is rich coming from you Mr Pureblood Malfoy."

"Enough." said Dumbledore, raising his hand after watching their exchange closely.

The arguing pair grudgingly ceased their war of insults and turned to their headmaster, still hoping that their was an easy solution to the problem.

"I'm afraid there is no easy solution to this, Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger."

Hermione was sure that she heard the combined hopes of she and Draco hit the floor with a depressing splat and wheeze.

"What?" they cried in unison.

"It _is_ called a Permanent Sticking Solution. The added factor that it is skin on skin only makes this more difficult. I am guessing that it has fused your skin cells together. Most unusual, but just as interesting."

"I'm glad my suffering is interesting. That _is _a solace." muttered Draco.

"I will request that Professor Snape concocts some kind of solution and I shall of course work with him, but until such times as we create the soon to be famous potion, you are both stuck together. It may be to your disdain but I feel it will do you some good."

Hermione felt her heart drop down where it certainly didn't belong and sighed. She had feared this, as, she was sure, had Draco. His features said it all. Brow lowered so far his eyes were barely visible and mouth twisted into a disgusted sneer. She was beginning to consider it a bragging right to have the ability to disfigure someone's face so completely just by touching them.

"You mean…you mean I'll be stuck to her for-for…" Draco trailed off and leaned on Dumbledore's desk for support.

"How long professor?" asked Hermione, quietly, allowing Draco his drama fix.

"I'm unsure Miss Granger," replied Dumbledore, sparing Draco an amused glance, "I surmise a few months at most."

"Months!" came the strangled voice of the blonde head resting on the table.

"Now, if you are quite finished Mr Malfoy, we shall have to discuss your living arrangements. I'm sure we have a spare room somewhere in this maze of a school."

Hermione sighed and thought about what it would be like to share a dormitory with Draco Malfoy. The word horrid came to mind. As did murder. And she was determined that the inevitable death would not be hers.

**Thanks for reading! Please review, it makes the time I take to write worth it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Thanks again for the reviews and the alerts and favourites. If you have anything to say, good or bad, I'd like to hear about it. I'm an adult (16, so pretty much!) I can handle critique; I need it. Here's chapter 3, please enjoy! I know it's slightly dramatic, but tensions are high and I needed a breaking point. **

**Chapter 3**

**_________**

Professor Albus Dumbledore was a much loved headmaster of Hogwarts, and one could see this with every step he made through the castle. First years cowered in awe, seventh years gazed in admiration and professors nodded at him with respect. Even portraits and ghosts greeted him deferentially. Yes, he was loved…by almost all. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were less that warm towards the inappropriately jovial man. They stared at his back mutinously as they followed him down a sixth floor corridor on their way to their soon-to-be dormitory (or Hell, as Hermione had fondly named it).

They traipsed along in silence, occasionally nudging each other or flinging glares from the corners of their eyes. A large portrait loomed ahead, similar to the one of the Fat Lady in frame, but very different in content. A magnificent, chestnut centaur stood at the centre, gazing up into a sky which had been bruised by colour. Small stars twinkled, white paint splashed against a purple and black canvas.

"Good day, Denan." said Dumbledore, smiling at the thoughtful centaur.

"Albus, welcome." replied the centaur quietly, "You come to make a request of me?"

"Ah, you say that as if it is all I ever do. But you are right as ever, I am here to ask a favour."

Hermione and Draco had, for the first time that day, stood still and silent watching the exchange. Denan peered at them and spotted their hands.

"Stuck together, I suppose, Albus? You want the room I conceal."

"If that would not be too much trouble." replied Dumbledore with an encouraging grin.

"Not at all. Enter, young ones. Your names?"

Hermione stepped forward, rendered almost breathless by the centaur's innate grandeur.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

Denan nodded and turned his eyes to Draco, who stood in a relaxed stance, uninterested and with a face that screamed boredom. If Hermione had to describe him in one word she would say 'rude'.

"And you, young man?" prompted the centaur.

"Draco Malfoy." replied the young man, as though it was perfectly obvious who he was and that the centaur was simply stupid for not knowing.

"Very well, I am Denan and my password is Callisto."

Hermione smiled and nodded in thanks while Draco merely shrugged and turned to Dumbledore. He had decided he did not like this centaur much. Far too much of an opinion of himself for a half-breed. Ridiculous how a sense of worth had spread to down to the sole of society.

"I am sure you will find your accommodation acceptable. I shall leave you to your day, Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy. Professor Snape or I shall find you as soon as we have a solution to your unusual predicament. I only have one request: please do not make it that we are separating two corpses - it would severely dampen our victory."

And with that, Albus Dumbledore turned away from his stunned pupils and glided down the corridor, returning to his admiring students. Hermione turned to Denan and smiled shyly up at him.

"Callisto."

"I am glad to see you are in possession of a memory, Hermione." he said, and swung aside to reveal the living quarters.

Hermione moved to enter first but felt herself pulled backwards by an irate Draco.

"Mudbloods never go before purebloods." he said, stepping over the threshold with a sniff.

"You're right, oh grand Malfoy, I'll let you get your slime on the carpet before I enter with my dirty blood." muttered Hermione, sneering at the back of his self-important head.

The room was simple, but pleasantly so. They entered into a small sitting room with a purple two-seater couch facing a roaring fire, coffee table placed in between. To the left of this a large window looked across to the Forbidden Forest, and to the right was a door, which Hermione presumed led to a bedroom. Lovely, especially with the morning sun streaming through the window.

"How hideous." said Malfoy, with a pained groan, "My room alone is twice the size of this."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned to face him with an incredulous sigh.

"Oh, yes Merlin forbid you should have to live in a room which is a _reasonable _size."

"I'm sure it's a palace to you, mudblood. I've heard your kind live in dirt huts, where you belong of course."

Hermione screamed internally, hurt by his comments but angered more by his prejudice. Was he deliberately ignorant?

"Who told you that, ferret? Your Death Eater father? What a pathetic man. Anyone who considers himself so above another human is merely hiding his own inadequacy. You're no better than me, no better than Denan, no better than the house elves who slave away in the kitchen, no matter how much you believe you are."

Malfoy roared and reached around, pulling Hermione towards him with a rough jerk, their hands stuck between their bodies, his other hand moving to wrench her head back by her hair.

"You don't deserve to kiss my father's shoes, Granger! He's twice the person you'll ever be. Purity of blood counts more than skill; you should serve me. You dirty my hand with your foul skin and think it nothing. But I shudder just thinking about your foul mudblood germs being anywhere near me."

Hermione seethed, blinded by a rage which had filled her ears with a white noise. 'Ignore him', 'Ignore him' repeated her head. Quick as a flash, Hermione smashed Malfoy's face with her clenched fist. 'I said _ignore _him.' shouted the voice in her head. Malfoy staggered, taking the shocked Hermione with him. They stood in a cold silence while Draco gingerly felt his eye - she had punched him! Where did that prissy bitch get off laying a hand on him? Had he not been so stunned there was no doubt he would have hit her back.

"I'm sorry." said Hermione, reluctantly peering at his eye herself, mentally awarding herself 20 points for such a clean hit, "Let me help."

"Why should I, Granger? You just assaulted me. Typical of your kind."

"Merlin! You're so blinded by prejudice, you can't see charity! Is all the world a social divide to you, Malfoy?"

Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped his face lightly, smoothing her wand across the surface of the rapidly swelling bruise.

"There, now no one will know you were 'assaulted' by a mudblood girl."

"It was the least you could do."

They lapsed into silence once more and Hermione reflected on what had just occurred. Never before had someone driven her to such wrath - aside from Umbridge. Draco was so corrupted by his father's view of the world that he didn't see her as a person at all. Perhaps this time could be used to her advantage, perhaps she could change his views, or at least weaken them. A leopard can't change his spots but Hermione would damn well try to lighten them. She refused to live stuck with someone who would storm at her, hurt her and force her to hurt in return. Just as she was mulling over this she said:

"I can't live like this."

Had she said that out loud? Oh, shit, yes, judging by Malfoy's raised eyebrow. His extremely disdainful raised eyebrow.

"I-I can't," she continued, "I refuse to be stuck with someone who can't see me as a human being, who can't say a civil word to me without it being laced with that bloody acerbic sarcasm. It needs to stop, and if you can't then I'm going to have to resort to drastic measures."

Draco snorted and smirked, quite impressive to see both performed at once. Clearly another inherited Malfoy trait that Ron would like to investigate.

"You don't know the meaning of the word drastic. Tell me, what will you do? Or is it too frightening to bear?"

Hermione raised her wand and pointed it at their joined hands.

"I'll sever us apart. And I might just slide up and take a bit of your wrist with me."

Malfoy's mouth fell open, dangerously close to hitting his chest. This girl was mental.

"Fine. You want civil? I can give you civil. We shall speak only when necessary and suffer the rest of our time together in silence. I won't speak my views if you would, and I truly mean this, if you would oblige me by not speak yours…at all."

Hermione contemplated this and wondered if he had fully understood what she meant. "You know the word suffer doesn't actually connote civility- forget it, that's fine, Malfoy. Civil and suffer in silence."

"Excellent."

"Super."

"Do you always have to have the last word, Granger?"

"…Yes."

**Thank you for reading! Now review! Imperio! Oh, if only that spell was real.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello. Sorry it's been so long. I had exams then I went to Italy on holiday! But I'm here now with an update and now that I'm on holiday there will be more. Thank you very much for the reviews! I love getting feedback from you guys, so keep it up, please :) Now, this story is not going to be completely light-hearted. I have decided to take a different tone than I had originally planned and I kind of want to explore the prejudice of the Malfoy family. It will still have the arguments and, hopefully, the humour but I just think that, while weaker than his father, Draco is not such a nice guy as to forget all that he has been taught and just love Hermione. Yet. Anyway, please keep reading and reviewing! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer - Not effing mine. **

**Chapter 4**

Following their argument, Draco and Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon in silence, as according to the rules of their agreement. It was not a comfortable atmosphere by any stretch of the imagination. Forced acceptance of someone's presence never was, especially with an undercurrent of something darker, some sense of desiring the demise of the one beside you. Sharing the couch, they sat before the fire, doing their homework as though neither was there. Hermione wrote easily, finishing her essay with a flourish, while Draco struggled along with his right hand, which was, unfortunately for him, attached to Hermione's left.

"Granger, could you please help me a little by lifting that rock you call a hand? I can barely write here!"

Hermione raised a brow and glanced over at his hand, which was roughly pulling hers across his parchment. She had, of course, felt it but did not feel obligated to help him, after all, their agreement was to be civil, not helpful. His sentence was essentially an insult as to the weight of her hand, yet disguised in that polite blanket of the word "please". Merlin, he could manage to put her down while being polite - there was no end to this boy's ability to display that aristocratic courtliness that accompanied a Malfoy upbringing. His father had a similar talent. It was both impressive and irritating.

"Certainly, _Draco."_

Well, he had said please. And the flash of irritation which passed across his face at her use of his first name was incredibly satisfying. Hermione eased her arm from the table and moved her arm along with Draco's so that he could write. She surreptitiously glanced at his essay, reading as he wrote, impressed by his eloquence.

"Surprised that I'm actually intelligent, Granger?"

With a jump, Hermione tore her eyes away from his parchment and directed her gaze towards the stone ceiling.

"Of course not."

Draco smirked and returned to his writing. He knew she had been reading, the nosy mudblood couldn't help but look down her nose at his work. Well, he wasn't stupid and considering he was particularly talented in potions, it was no surprise that his essay was excellent. Finishing his essay with a flick of his quill, Draco turned to Hermione, who still stared resolutely at the ceiling.

"Mother's love, Granger, I don't care if your were reading my essay. Don't flatter yourself by thinking that I value your opinion of my intelligence so highly," _A mudblood's opinion is hardly of any consequence to me._

Although he didn't say it aloud, Hermione could just sense what he was thinking and she frowned slightly, turning to face him properly.

She inspected his face while he did the same to her. It was a curious moment as her dark chocolate eyes ran over his pale, pointed face, across his marble-like skin, straight nose and finally found the gray slates of his eyes.

The eyes are the windows to the soul she had heard many times, and, she supposed, it was true to some extent but she found them hardly as transparent as a window. Draco's in particular. She saw the eyes as more of a book - filled with important information, which was easy to find, if only one knew what they were looking for. And as she looked into Draco's eyes she saw it plain and simple.

Hatred.

He actually hated her. Certainly, being raised by Lucius Malfoy had afforded him certain advantages in that his face and words could reveal nothing of his feelings. He was statuesque in expression and carefully civilised in words but his eyes betrayed all. They were not yet as dead as his father's. And in those icy grey pools she knew she could drown in that inexplicably strong emotion of hate that she evoked in him. Was it her blood status? Was it really that simple? In reality, they had spent their school years together but they hardly knew each other - how, then, could he have any other reason for hating her?

And that word. That word he threw from his poison tongue so casually. _Mudblood. _It was just a word. Yet it was more than a word. It was how he and his world saw her. Dirty, unworthy, subhuman. Did he see her as human at all?

Yes, Draco Malfoy hated her for being, well, born. The ideals he had been raised with made sure of that and as she sat facing him, Hermione wondered if this pact of civility was a stupid idea, for it would never last more than a night.

The silence between them was more deafening than the shriek of a thousand banshees but they ignored its oppressive presence and Draco smirked as his eyes travelled across Hermione's features.

God how he hated her.

That bushy hair, those big teeth, and those stupidly big, expressive eyes. They were her only redeeming feature he supposed, on an otherwise plain face. She was a mudblood anyway, he wouldn't have expected her to be pretty with blood so polluted. Every time he saw her his father's words would rush through his mind from the many years of home education. _They are thieves of magic, Draco…We are better than them…Undeserving, dirty, _mudbloods_. _His father was never wrong - he too had been raised with this understanding, he based his every action upon it. And so would Draco.

"I think we should go down to dinner." Said Hermione suddenly, stiffly. Her face had paled considerably in the last few moments and he smirked as her voice held a slight tremor.

The pair approached the looming Great Hall doors, behind which the loud voices of students emanated. Happy, unburdened and certainly not stuck to their enemies. With a jerk, Draco pulled Hermione forward and she glowered, stepping on his toe with deliberately heavy feet as she pushed the door open, feeling the pact of civility ruffle her hair as it flew past them, incinerated invisibly in their minds.

"Watch your duck feet, mudblood."

That word again.

Hermione gritted her teeth and settled on not retaliating. She would be the bigger person. That stupid bloody _git._ As long as she didn't have to be the bigger person in her mind, she had a chance of retaining her sanity in the whole ordeal.

They travelled over the threshold of the hall together and stopped suddenly, resisting each other's movements. Hermione had hoped to avoid the whisperings and move quickly to a seat with her friends but there was no such hope now.

As she and Malfoy stood at the entrance of the hall, each trying to pull the other in opposite directions, towards their tables of choice, every head in the room snapped towards them, and a wall of whispers was built brick by brick. The rumour had of course spread around the school like wildfire but to see fire and ice joined together was quite the spectacle, and people began to speculate who would kill the other first. Fred and George, quite quickly, Hermione noticed, had begun to quietly collect bets.

"We're eating at my table, Granger." whispered Draco, harshly.

"_No. _I think you'll find we're eating at _mine."_ Hermione emphasised the last word with a jerk of their hands.

Draco sighed in exasperation at the stubborn mudblood. She was certainly strong willed. It brought a certain fire to those expressive eyes… Shaking his head, the Slytherin snapped himself back to the present situation and turned to Hermione, desperate to be away from the stares of his fellow students. As much as he enjoyed attention, it was not preferable under the circumstances.

"A compromise then. We eat at my table tonight, yours tomorrow night and so on, so forth."

Hermione raised her chin, the defiance still on her features, and nodded reluctantly.

"Very well."

Hermione saw Harry and Ron's faces fall at the Gryffindor table where they had moved to make room and she smiled, mouthing _tomorrow _at them. They seemed to accept this, but continued to glance at her throughout dinner, and glaring at Malfoy with unadulterated hatred.

"Potty and Weasel really can't stand this, can they?" said Malfoy with a smirk as they ate, "I think Weasel's head is about to explode. His skin and hair are beginning to blend."

True enough , Ron was going slightly red as he watched Draco whisper in her ear. She shook her head at him with a small smile in his direction.

"Yes, it's funny how people can actually care about others enough to show emotion. I'm sure you're unaware of that feeling."

Malfoy grunted, his eyes narrowed at Hermione with a glint of that painfully obvious hatred.

Hermione felt unbelievably awkward at the Slytherin table. It was reminiscent of that morning in potions. They all glared at her with those cold eyes, wishing her the worst. Were all of their parents Death Eaters? She wondered. Did they all feel the same about the purity of her blood? Probably - she did not see one friendly face.

As Draco and his friends sat sniggering at some joke or other, Hermione picked at her dinner, her mind propelled her forward in time to the rest of the night. They had to sleep.

Hermione dropped her fork with a clatter, ignoring the sniggers and mutters of "stupid mudblood." from those around her. She was not going to share a bed with Draco bloody Malfoy. She would not share a bed with someone who hated her, someone who would most likely smother her in her sleep.

Suddenly Hermione was not so hungry.

Review, my friends. And great things will happen. Updates...those may not be so great actually :P

x


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi! Here's the next chapter, guys. Now, please, enjoy. But also, review! I hate to beg but so many of you alert the story and don't spend 2 minutes to leave a word. I genuinely appreciate you reading the story, I love you for it, but I'd like to know what you actually think. Thank you, rant over :P.**

**Disclaimer - Tis not mine, me hearties. **

**Chapter 5**

When the time came to leave the Great Hall, Hermione's mind was a whirlpool of confusion and ambivalence. She was of course glad to be away from that blasted Slytherin table - as were her toes which had been constantly stamped on by Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson - but she was dreading the moment where she and Malfoy would be alone, left to decide the issue of a bed. Could she actually lie beside him in her most vulnerable state? He was Malfoy, hardly dangerous when in Hogwarts. But that did not mean she trusted him. She most certainly did not fancy waking up with a charmed moustache, or worse.

With a small wave at Harry and Ron, Hermione grudgingly made her way out to the Entrance Hall in a stampede of Slytherins. She and Malfoy turned to go upstairs, climbing the 6 floors, neither acknowledging the others presence for the entire journey.

"Password?"

Hermione was relieved to finally hear a voice that was not scathing or sarcastic and it was with great pleasure that she looked at the majestic Denan, replying "Callisto" with a grateful smile.

Denan merely nodded, swinging forward to allow the pair to enter their dormitory. Draco stepped through first, as he believed he should, and when he landed lightly on the other side of the portrait he finally realised why the stupid Mudblood had dropped her fork at dinner.

"Merlin, no."

"Yes, Ferret. There's no way around it."

Draco barely glanced at Hermione, deciding to walk smartly to the bedroom door, pulling it open with a sharp tug. Yes, it was just as Hermione had thought, one bed.

"I-is this even _allowed?"_ asked Draco incredulously, turning to his companion with an open mouth.

"Do you mean under the rules of the school, or the rules of pureblood supremacy?" replied Hermione with a raised brow and jaw set in line.

Draco rolled his eyes and sniffed, "Of course it's against pureblood rules, but I do think we're past those boundaries at the moment, Granger. I only live in hope that my father does not hear word of this situation. I am disgusted enough as it is, I hardly need his anger on top of it."

Hermione was sure she saw a flicker of worry in Malfoy's eyes. What if his father did find out? Lucius Malfoy was not a pleasant man, Hermione knew that from her own experiences. She also suspected that he would most likely be a strict father with firm ideals which had been forced on himself. But what would he do if those ideals had been broken by his own son? Intentionally or not? Should she be worried?

Deciding to settle on her more current problems, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the bed, feeling Draco resist her movements.

"Look," she said, turning to face him, "We are joined together, face it, accept it, embrace it!" Malfoy sneered, "It's simply not feasible for us to sleep in separate beds, Malfoy."

"I will face it, then, but I will certainly not embrace it, Granger! Ridiculous notion…" his sentence trailed off and they both stood, hand in reluctant hand, staring at their next obstacle. The bed looked comfortable enough. Large with a mountain of pillows and a thick crème duvet.

The perfect bed. _What a pity about the companion_, thought Hermione.

"Well…" she said, hesitantly looking at Malfoy.

"Yes, shall we?"

They walked over to the bed, Draco waving his wand as they went so that they were both dressed in their pyjamas. Hermione stifled a giggle as she saw his pyjamas.

"Snakes, Malfoy, really?"

Draco looked down quickly and up at Hermione, a small flush on his usually pale cheeks. His pyjamas were a dark green, with small snakes along the collar of his top, and the cuffs. So unbelievably Slytherin that Hermione could not help but find it hilarious.

"Yes, snakes, Mudblood," replied Draco, holding his head high and looking down his nose at her own simple blue night clothes, "I can see you dress to match your face - rather plain."

Hermione scowled at him but with less intensity than usual - the insult was, after all, rather half-hearted. The pair climbed onto the large bed, pulling back the sheets and settling in to the cool cocoon of cotton.

The situation could not have been more awkward.

Sliding her wand under her pillow, Hermione was sure she felt Draco move to do the same on her left. Feeling sleepy and well-fed, she did not feel so hostile towards him. She actually felt slightly connected to him in a way, considering their equal dislike of their situation.

"I can't believe I have to share a bed with a Mudblood. How disgusting."

With a rush, the hostility returned, white hot and sparking. Lifting the nearest heavy pillow, Hermione brought it down with a crash on Malfoy's face. He growled and pushed it from his body, glaring at her behind a curtain of messy platinum hair.

"Would you _stop _hitting my face with things, Granger! A pillow may be an improvement on your fist but it is no less aggravating."

Hermione shifted around to face him and snorted incredulously.

"As soon as you are able to stop calling me a Mudblood, I will stop smacking your smug face. You bring it on yourself."

"I merely call you what you are."

Hermione moaned in despair, throwing herself back into the mound of pillows. This was impossible. He made it far to difficult to be civil.

"If we're calling each other what we truly are then I feel you should know just how I see you."

Draco raised a disdainful brow, leaning on his elbow, "I'm afraid I don't much care how you see me - it is hardly detrimental to my life."

"I'm afraid it's not just me; by just about everyone you're thought as the most pompous, insufferable, prejudiced Slytherin prat in Hogwarts. And I dare say everyone will agree with me if I were to suggest that you were preferable as a ferret - then we wouldn't have to listen to your ignorant ramblings, the words of a puppet."

Draco gritted his teeth and glowered at the girl lying beside him, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

"What do you mean puppet?"

"I think you know very well what I mean, _Draco, _the puppet of your father. Your words are his words. There is hardly an original bone in your body. And that's hardly something to be proud of considering who the puppeteer is."

Hermione cried out in shock as she felt his body collide with hers. The pair tumbled across the bed, becoming tangled in the ocean of sheets so that they were locked together, Draco on top of Hermione, pinning her down with his weight.

Quickly, he extracted his free hand from the sheets and grabbed her wand, pointing it roughly under her chin and forcing her head up. She felt his ragged breath on her face, puffing and warm.

"I don't want to hear one more word about my father come from your filthy mouth, Mudblood!"

Hermione twisted her mouth into an ugly grin and laughed in his face.

"You seem to labour under the impression that I have to do as you say, Ferret."

The red mist which had clouded Draco's, vision began to clear ever so slightly so that he was able to gain control of himself before he hexed the bossy witch. He looked down into her eyes burning with rage and found himself entranced; why wouldn't she do as she was told? His father told him that Mudbloods knew deep down they were servants but Granger didn't. She was so bloody certain and superior.

And it made him wonder if all Mudbloods were so stubborn and strong.

Hermione locked eyes with Malfoy and saw his eyes cloud over in thought. Was his face moving closer? Hermione panicked as she saw his eyes move closer, his lips move closer and she turned cock-eyed trying to keep her gaze on him. Suddenly he stopped, a disgusted sound erupting from his throat and threw himself from her, onto his own side of the bed.

Feeling her wand hit her side, Hermione looked around to see it lying beside her and Draco staring away from her.

She placed it back on the bedside table and lay back, closing her eyes. Their arguing was done for the night, she could tell. Yet she had been certain he would hex her after her stubborn refusal to bend to his will. He had only moved closer, but it did not seem to be to kiss her as she had first thought. That was insanity personified, and rather disgusting.

No, he seemed to be inspecting her. Odd, but from Hermione's experience Malfoy's generally were. Odd little pale men with a lack of humanity. Pushing the incident to the back of her mind, Hermione closed her eyes, deciding to trust the fact that Malfoy seemed too preoccupied to harass her sleeping form.

'_What on earth is wrong with me?' _

Draco Malfoy lay on his side of the bed, repeating this sentence in his head over and over. Why was he so enraptured by Granger's eyes? He could not help but be fascinated by the flames that danced in them when she was angry and the cool, distant ice that froze the warm chocolate when she looked at him.

He despised this girl that lay beside him, her breathing now steady and soft in sleep. But that did not mean he did not enjoy eliciting different expressions in those eyes.

Shaking his head, Draco twitched the hand attached to Hermione's in distaste before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

**Don't make me whip out the imperius curse again ^_^ Hope it was good, and review, please.**

**x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi! I know, you probably thought I'd died or something but I swear I'm quite well and writing again. My laptop basically, for want of a better word, exploded. Out of use for aaaaages (too long) but now I have a new one so the Dramione continues! I hope you guys are still reading, I really am very sorry I took so long. This is not quite as eventful a chapter as I had anticipated but I'm planning for Malfoy Sr to make and entrance next chapter. I less than 3 him but I swear he'll be bad to the bone.  
**

**Just toss a review my way so I know if I still have readers after the wait :O **

**Chapter 6**

The following morning, Hermione and Draco awoke from their extremely light sleeps. All through the night, both had jerked awake at random intervals, suspecting their sleeping partner of treachery. Hermione sat up slowly, bringing her free hand up to rub her sleep coated eyes.

"Merlin, you _are _a treat in the morning, Granger."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned back to Malfoy, who lay reclined on his pillows, watching her with amused eyes. She was aware, even in her groggy state, that her hair had found new heights and widths and that her left cheek was coated in drool which had trickled from her open mouth during sleep.

But that was not what provoked a cry of anger from her. No, her anger was due to the fact that when faced with Malfoy upon waking, Hermione had nothing in particular to point out that was wrong with him. His hair was slicked back, as was the usual, and his face looked clean and freshly washed.

"Speechless, Mudblood? You're not the first after a night with me."

Hermione groaned, "Oh get over yourself, Ferret. Why are you so fresh and clean in the - Oh, you didn't."

Hermione cackled, eliciting a frown from Draco.

"What are you laughing at , Granger?"

"You washed and fixed yourself with your wand before I woke up! As unbelievably conceited as that is, Malfoy, I appreciate that you'd be willing to still make an effort for your inferiors."

Pink rose in Draco's cheeks and he glared at the girl laughing at his expense.

"I was just awake, Granger. No need to flatter yourself."

"Sure, no, of course, the fact that I might see you at your messiest was probably not even on your mind, oh pristine Malfoy."

"Well, you're certainly not pristine. Perhaps this will clean the muck off. Scourgify!"

Malfoy jabbed his wand in Hermione's direction and she shrieked as she was enveloped in bubbles, feeling the harsh scrape of bristles across her skin and hair. When the bubbles disappeared, Malfoy grinned as he was greeted with the sight of a severely pink, but clean, Hermione.

"You arse! That hurt - scourgify isn't supposed to be used on people."

"Well, it's lucky you could hardly constitute as a person then, Mudblood."

Oh no. Hermione turned her face away from Malfoy, as she felt the tears rise, uninvited behind her eyes. Holding them in, she felt a galleon-sized lump rise in her throat, blocking off her air, causing her to hiccup. She hadn't meant to react this way. Hermione Granger would never, ever cry in front of Draco Malfoy. Steeling herself, she turned back to him, unaware of the tears still glistening in her eyes.

'Shit'. Malfoy watched as Hermione suddenly turned away from him, hiding her face behind her haystack of hair. Maybe he had gone over the line. But she deserved it - Mudbloods weren't people really. His father told him. But when Granger turned back to him he saw the thin line of tears rim her eyes and for the first time, he saw pain reflected in the pools of golden brown.

He was so used to hate, anger and defiance, even laughter but pain? This was a new one and Malfoy didn't like it.

"Sensitivity doesn't suit you Granger, suck it up."

Hermione's eyes widened and suddenly the pain disappeared, only to be replaced with a rage. Thank Merlin, he never wanted to see her form such a hurt expression again. He didn't want to be the cause of _that._ It was almost, _almost, _heart-wrenching.

"Sod off, Malfoy. Like anyone would consider you human. Feelings are a requirement, for one thing."

Hermione hopped up, pulling a thoughtful Draco with her. Why did he hate her pain so much? This was a recent development, for he often claimed to revel in it. But despite his desire to evoke as many feelings as possible in those eyes, he never wanted to see that particular emotion again. Maybe he'd lay off just a bit.

With a wave of Hermione's wand they were both dressed and ready to leave their new common room to go to breakfast. And today, breakfast, lunch and dinner were to be with the Gryffindors.

Malfoy groaned when he recalled this fact, dreading having to sit near those stupid, self-righteous, red-obsessed tits. Didn't they understand that being cunning was a greater survival technique than courage? He had never understood the Gryffindor mentality.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, after a long march of silence, Hermione dragged Draco over to the Gryffindor table, parking them across the table from Harry and Ron, who upon seeing them, looked delighted to see Hermione, but not to see Draco. The torn expression on their faces was comical to Hermione.

"Hello you two," she said, reaching for some toast with the hand joined to Draco's.

Harry and Ron eyed this distastefully, Ron setting his fork down delicately and turning his gaze away.

"Oh stop, Ron, we won't be stuck together for too long. How have you been, anyway? I feel like I haven't spoke to you two in ages!"

Harry smiled at his friend, glad to see she was coping with Malfoy without any trouble. He knew she was strong but this was incredible - he was certain he could never have put up with Malfoy for more than an hour.

"We've been fine, Hermione but, more importantly, how have _you _been?" said Ron, with a none too subtle glance at Malfoy who was listlessly eating his bacon.

"I've been fine," said Hermione, with a forced smile, trying to push the morning's events to the back of her mind.

"Thought you would be, Hermione. If anyone can cope, you can." said Harry, with an encouraging grin.

Hermione smiled but quickly hid it when Malfoy retorted.

"I'm not stupid you know and I'm really not difficult to live with, am I, Granger?"

Hermione shrugged noncommittally.

"So anyway, Hermione, any chance you can help me with that potions essay? Say, by finishing off my conclusion? I've been struggling without you."

Hermione smiled and nodded, accepting that Ron would forever be needing her help with potions. She really didn't mind all that much. But Malfoy did.

"Pfft. You're ridiculous, Weasley. I take it she always does your work for you. Why do you put up with this, Granger?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised at his sudden defence of her.

"Shut up, Malfoy. Why don't you mind your own bloody business."

"Stinging put down there, Weasley. I consider myself told."

Ron's fists curled into balls of stretched freckled skin until his knuckles became whiter and more visible, while in contrast his ears turned a beaming red. Malfoy looked bemused to the point of amusement at the colour chart Ron had become.

Sensing danger, Hermione jumped up, jerking Malfoy from the bench.

"Right, see you in potions!" she chirped with faux cheer.

When Hermione and Draco had left and Ron had cooled off, Harry found the chance to talk to his friend.

"Do you wonder if Hermione just puts a happy face on this, Ron? I mean, Malfoy's harmless, probably, but he's not exactly pleasant having the father he does. I don't want him…I don't know…verbally abusing, Hermione."

"Harry, if we know Hermione she's probably hitting back with her own verbal abuse…or physical. To be frank I hope it's both."

Harry chuckled, throwing his satchel over his shoulder, "Yeah, you're probably right. It's Hermione we're talking about I guess."

**Thanks for reading! Now review my chickadees ;) **

**x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! Keep 'em coming, they make me update faster - evidently :D Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Chapter 7**

Potions was, thankfully, an uneventful affair. Hermione and Draco sat hand in hand under the curious stares of their classmates. Even Snape looked slightly interested, occasionally glancing through his curtain of hair to see the two staring resolutely ahead, refusing to acknowledge each other or anyone else. Both felt it better to ignore their situation around others. Snape swept over to his desk, frowning slightly in frustration as he contemplated the piles of parchment strewn over the usually spotless surface. Under Dumbledore's instruction he had spent most of his waking hours, and probably the few he had asleep, trying to concoct a antidote to a permanent sticking solution.

But its title was holding true.

Growling slightly, he glanced up at his class who were staring agape at the top of his head. Dunderheads.

"Get to work! You have an essay to complete."

He poured once again over the pieces of parchment as the class shuffled around, hurrying to extract parchment and quills from their bags.

Goosegrass was a possibility but there was too much of a risk of the skin peeling away. Although that would certainly solve the problem, albeit in a more gruesome way. Snape was willing to take that path if only for his own peace of mind. He hated not knowing the answer. Shuddering, he realised he and Granger shared a trait.

The unfortunate pair leaned on their desks, bored and uninterested as they had finished the essay already. Draco glanced at Hermione and frowned when she returned the look. She screwed up her nose and stuck out her tongue. Draco smirked and crossed his eyes. Hermione stifled a giggle, looking away quickly so that he would not notice.

Draco turned away fast too; had he just tried to make a Mudblood laugh? His father would be ashamed if he ever found out.

"Sir, could Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger please come to see Professor Dumbledore?" A tall third year had shuffled into the room, unheard by the muttering class.

Not bothering to look up from his work, Snape waved a careless hand towards the door. Taking this as their permission to leave, Hermione and Draco followed the third year from the room.

"Do you have any idea what he wants us for?" Hermione asked her hopefully, thinking Dumbledore had come up with a solution.

"No idea," the girl replied, "But there was a tall blonde guy with him. Looked a bit like you." she said, jerking her head at Draco who paled considerably at her words.

How did he find out? Surely Dumbledore wasn't foolish enough to say. Or had his father known he had made Granger laugh? Please, no.

Hermione turned her gaze to Malfoy whose face was contorting with worry. They journeyed along the familiar path to Dumbledore's office without a word from her, and anxious mutterings from her pale companion. He could not have appeared more worried if they had been told Voldemort himself awaited them.

Dumbledore's office door flew open before they could raise their hands to knock and a livid Lucius Malfoy faced them, cane in one hand, other clenched in a tight fist. His face was placid but Hermione noticed a slight twitch on the left side of his jaw which betrayed his true emotions. And those were? You might ask. Hermione could only identify two emotions from this informative twitch. And those were shame and unadulterated rage.

His eyes swiftly swept their bodies, finally locating the conjoined hands. Suddenly his grip on the cane became tighter.

"Draco," he nodded, not even deigning to acknowledge Hermione, "I can see that I find you far from well."

Dumbledore stood from behind his expansive desk and came around to face the group assembled in his office.

"As I have explained in my letter, Lucius, we are trying all that we can to separate the two. There was really no reason for you to come."

"I'm afraid I could not quite believe what I was reading, Albus. A father must come and check on his son in such a situation."

Lucius threw a dirty glare at Hermione. It was so swift that Hermione barely noticed it. Draco, however, did and gulped uncertainly. If his father said or did anything harsh, she obviously deserved it. He knew best. Draco knew this at least.

"I can assure you, Lucius," said Dumbledore, a curtness creeping into his voice that Hermione had never heard, "Your son is quite alright as you can see. He and miss Granger are living together tolerably well I dare say."

Hermione wondered why Draco had been so silent up to this point. She had expected him to cry to Merlin when his father arrived. To bemoan being stuck to a Mudblood, to demand that her arm be severed so that he might have his superior freedom. But he merely stood. Pale, quiet, staring reverently before his imposing father. They were remarkably similar, Hermione noted. But Draco's face had something more of a kindness in it still than his father, something which Hermione knew he would lose in time if things continued the way the did.

"Is this true, Draco? Are you quite _happy?"_

Lucius Malfoy's tone had something of an edge to it and Draco shifted from foot to foot unsure how to answer the pointed question.

"Not _happy, _father, how can you expect me to be so? I must tolerate my situation, as a good Malfoy should."

His father nodded in reluctant acceptance of his answer. A declaration of his abhorrence of Mudbloods would have perhaps pleased him more as he had forever been unsure of his son's strength of feeling on the subject; he always seemed to make rather half-hearted affirmations of his beliefs. But they were affirmations nonetheless.

"I am afraid, fellows, that I am much to busy to entertain company for much longer," said Dumbledore, full of regret, "I have Cornelius coming in a moment and although he is forever running late, I do rather expect him in a matter of seconds."

Lucius turned to Dumbeldore and nodded stiffly, "Thank you for your time, Albus, I shall be leaving."

"Lucius, always a pleasure." Then with more feeling, "Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, I promise to keep you informed of developments. Professor Snape is trying his utmost."

"Perhaps I shall have to have a word with dear Severus," muttered Lucius as he stormed from the office.

Hermione smiled appreciatively at Dumbledore before being dragged from the room by Draco who was moving at speed to keep up with his father. They soon reached a quiet corridor, still following the statuesque man when he suddenly span around.

"What do you _want_, Draco? I am in rather a hurry and I don't care to spend much more time in its presence."

Hermione felt her veins bubble. _It?_

"Excuse me but _it _has a name and that name is Hermione Granger, Mr Malfoy. I am polite enough to use yours."

Draco stared at Hermione open-mouthed and stupefied. No one spoke to his father like that, how dare she? The girl was brave to the point of foolishness.

"Shut up, Granger you leave my-"

But he was cut off when Hermione was suddenly slammed into the stone beside them, making Draco trip a little as he went along with her. Lucius Malfoy's wand was pointed at Hermione's face and his face had developed a light pink flush as he breathed heavily in anger.

"How dare you," he hissed, "How dare you speak to me like that, Mudblood. I am your better. You should be bowing before me and never speaking directly to me. You shame my family while you stand in the presence of my son and I."

He jabbed his wand forward and the expression of indignation on Hermione's features changed to one of panic as she gasped and her hands flew up to her throat. Draco started - he was choking her.

"You have made me ashamed of my own son, Mudblood, are you proud?" A flick of his wand to the left and Hermione's face jerked along with it, a pink mark appearing on her cheek.

Draco panicked - she was turning purple, her eyes bloodshot.

"Look at how pathetic you are. Look at her Draco," he jeered.

Draco couldn't look.

"Draco! Look! This stupid Mudblood you are with canno-"

With a bang Lucius Malfoy flew across the corriodor, landing in an expensive silk heap on the other side. Hermione gulped in air like a child dying of thirst and sank to the floor as Draco looked on helplessly. She had used wandless magic to throw his father off.

His father said Mudbloods couldn't use wandless magic because their stolen power relied on wands. It had been wordless magic too. Granger was perhaps as powerful as his father.

The blonde heap opposite them stirred and stumbled to its feet, seething with rage.

"Mudblood!" he cried, starting forward. Hermione scuttled back, trying to pull Draco with her so that she could move faster. But he had other ideas.

"No, father! Leave her," he said, hauling her to her feet and placing her shivering body lightly behind him.

Lucius halted as though a shield charm had impeded his progress. He stared at his son, incensed at his impertinence, believing it to be Hermione's influence.

"Draco what is the meaning of this?"

"Not in the school, what would society think? You're a governor, father. You must wait."

Lucius recalled his surroundings and raised a lofty eyebrow. His son was not defending the Mudblood, thank Merlin, just his father and his family name, as a good Malfoy should.

"You are right, Draco. Thank you, son."

Draco dipped his head to his father, his lips in a stiff line. Lucius, gathering his robes around him, patted his son on the shoulder before giving Hermione a look of disdain that promised vengeance and marching down the corridor as though he had not just attacked a young woman in front of his son.

Draco turned quickly to the girl behind him who had not made a sound the entire time.

"Merlin, Hermione, are you alright?"

**Dun Dun Dun. Damn that Lucius Malfoy. The wizard cops should be after him! Please review :)**

**Emma x**


End file.
